a new road

A Road the Woods Hadn't Quite Forgotten.

Avenue of grasses
doubly canaled,
strolling through forested hills.

Long forgotten by farmer, horse, auto—
friends.

Soon the woods will quite forget
the road 

ever wandered there.

Will our own steps
be so forgotten
when we
cease
to breathe
the air?

This poem is a humble and very brief penning, for a humble, small beginning. Could it be better? Perhaps. But this is what I scribbled (plus a few minor tweaks) while in the car with my sister as the countryside sped by the well-used passenger window.